


Sufficient Unto Love

by Zoe Rayne (MontanaHarper)



Category: Hercules: The Legendary Journeys, Xena: Warrior Princess
Genre: Early Work, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-05-31
Updated: 1998-05-31
Packaged: 2017-10-11 21:00:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,530
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/117074
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MontanaHarper/pseuds/Zoe%20Rayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was written for a challenge on the Hercfic list. It contains: Ares, God of Love, Cupid, God of Love, Temple of Cupid, a feather.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sufficient Unto Love

**Author's Note:**

> **AO3 A/N:** This is an example of my very early fanfic. For historical purposes I'm leaving it as it was originally posted, including the summary. Even if a lot of it makes me cringe now.

> Love gives naught but itself and takes naught but from itself.  
> Love possesses not nor would it be possessed;  
> For love is sufficient unto love.  
> —Kahlil Gibran

The air crackled with electricity, spikes of lightning knifing through the angry gray clouds and illuminating snatches of buildings and trees. A vortex swirled into being, casting an eerie blue glow on the marble pillars of Cupid's temple and whipping up whirlwinds of dust from the ground. The center of the maelstrom dilated and a white-clad figure stumbled from it, regaining his balance once past the influence of the energy coil. With an audible snap, the vortex collapsed back into itself and disappeared, leaving only the ionized atmosphere to show it had ever existed.

Ares glanced around, eyebrows drawn together in concentration. All glowing white marble and columns, the massive structure in front of him could almost have been his own temple. Almost. Everything looked familiar, but there was an overall feeling of...wrongness...as though he was viewing his surroundings through a flawed lens.

Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all, he though. But Iolaus, the other Iolaus, had made him curious. What kind of world had molded him thusly when the Iolaus _he_ knew was such a spineless creature?

With a flash of blue he disappeared, reappearing a moment later inside the temple. As he walked through the inner chambers he noticed the slight differences in decor that differentiated the temple of this world's God of Love—the garish gilded statues, carvings of fat babies, and wings on everything.

"What's with the wings?" he wondered aloud. "If I didn't know better, I'd almost think this was Cupid's temple."

"That's because it _is_ my temple." The voice came from behind him.

Ares spun around, startled, and found himself face to face with Cupid. "Listen, I'm really sorry," he said, watching Cupid's face for the telltale twitch next to his mouth that signaled an impending explosion of temper. "I didn't realize this was your temple. I mean, it looks so..." Ares trailed off as the winged god crossed his arms over his chest and cocked his head to one side.

"It looks so...what?" Cupid prompted.

"Colorful." Ares said, hoping the answer would do.

Cupid shrugged. Ares could see the quizzical look as the winged god's gaze roved from his head to his feet and back again.

"What's with the new look, Unc?" Cupid asked. "Clean-shaven? I kinda liked the racing stripes. And since when has your wardrobe been white? Though I've gotta say, those pants are...totally impressive." The look he gave Ares was almost a leer.

Ares opened his mouth, then closed it again, unsure how to respond and still a little unnerved by the disparity between this world and his own. By this time, the Cupid _he_ knew would've done something unusually violent and unpleasant, probably involving mass destruction.

Cupid's hazel eyes widened. "Oh, I get it!" he said. "Mom told me about this. You're from that other world, the one run by Hercules' double. Uncle Herc told Mom that she is the Queen of the Gods over there, and that Hera is, like, Goddess of Music," he laughed. "So you're Ares, but you're not _our_ Ares, right?"

"That about sums it up, yeah," Ares said, still struck by the contrast between the Cupid he knew and the god who stood before him.

Starting with the spiky blond hair, Ares' gaze roamed over the figure of the winged god, comparing him to his memory of Cupid. Both had the same hazel eyes set in a heart-shaped face and framed with thick black lashes, the same broad, tanned chest tapering down to slim, leather-covered hips...Ares forcibly stopped himself from going any further in his appraisal.

"Cool!" Cupid's hands rested on his hips, the muscles in his chest rippling as he moved. "Judging by the outfit, you're either _not_ the God of War, or you just have a bizarre fashion sense."

Ares smiled and tilted his head downwards slightly, looking up at Cupid through his lashes. He knew full well the effect that look could have. " _You're_ the God of War," he said, "at least where I come from."

"That's wild. Imagine—me, kicking ass and taking names." Cupid grinned again. His gaze focused over Ares' right shoulder and he got a far-away look in his eye.

"It's an impressive sight," Ares almost whispered. The memory of Cupid's— _his_ Cupid's—hands on his body sent a shiver through him.

The other god's gaze was suddenly focused on Ares again, his eyebrows drawing together in a frown. "So if you're not War...?"

"Love." The quiet syllable hung in the air, its essence an almost palpable substance, growing and filling the space between the two gods until Ares could no longer stand the temptation.

He took a step forward and tentatively reached out to Cupid, his fingers tracing the vee of leather that criss-crossed the winged god's chest. "Ares, God of Love," he said again, as if testing the words out, trying them on.

Frown fading, Cupid raised one eyebrow slightly, a lascivious smile tugging at one corner of his mouth. Fingertips barely grazing Cupid's skin, Ares savored the smoothness of the slick flesh beneath his hand. He stroked across Cupid's collarbone and up the tender flesh of his neck, making Cupid shiver at the touch. Cupid licked his lower lip, the motion so familiar that Ares could hardly believe he wasn't the god Ares knew so well.

Cupping Cupid's jaw, Ares ran his thumb across those sensual lips. He stared into hazel eyes—the eyes of his lover and yet...not quite—relishing the desire that shone from them. Ares slipped his hand around the back of Cupid's neck and pulled him into a kiss.

Ares twined his fingers firmly into Cupid's short hair, intensely aware of the telltale hardness of the winged god's arousal. Feeling Cupid's hands slide down to cup his ass, Ares arched his hips and moaned against Cupid's mouth, jolts of electricity coursing through him at their intimate touch.

Out of breath, Ares pulled himself back from the quicksand of Cupid's arms. He felt the winged god's hands on his chest, caressing him, fingers deftly unfastening his vest and slipping it from his shoulders. Then those hands were flat against his chest and Cupid was grinning wickedly at him. Without warning, the winged god shoved hard against his chest and Ares realized belatedly that Cupid had hooked his foot around the back of Ares' calf. A sudden image of the God of War flashed into his mind, a memory of _his_ Cupid and the rough games he played, then Ares landed on a bed of red and gold silken pillows that hadn't been there a moment before.

Looking up from where he lay, Ares couldn't help but laugh at the self-satisfied grin on Cupid's face. Some things were the same in both worlds, but some were so very different. He reached up and tugged on Cupid's belt, one quick movement pulling the winged god down to land on Ares' chest, still grinning, his eyes bright with passion.

With a touch that hinted at familiarity, Ares gently stroked the top ridge of Cupid's right wing and was rewarded with a surprised moan. He continued the light touch, smoothing the downy feathers as Cupid stretched his wings to their full breadth and arched decadently. With practiced ease he caressed the white velvety surface, running his fingers through the feathers and grazing the tender flesh underneath, making Cupid shudder sensually and pull his wings back close to his body.

Arching his back, Ares flipped them both over and pinned Cupid to the ground, arms above his head, wings tucked carefully beneath him. It was something he would never have dared to do at home, a liberty he knew better than to take. But here... Slowly, his eyes taking in every inch of the face before him, Ares bent down to capture Cupid's hot mouth with his own, their kiss brief but passionate.

Ares felt Cupid resist, struggling to pull his wrists free of the firm grip. But the winged god's mouth gave lie to his actions as it latched onto Ares' throat, nipping and kissing the sensitive flesh until Ares moaned and arched his hips, grinding his erection against the hardness of Cupid's body and seeking release. Ares loosed Cupid's arms and Cupid caressed his cheek with one hand, the other trailing down Ares' side to tease his aching cock through the thin white fabric. With an impatient motion, Ares made their remaining clothing vanish, feeling Cupid's hand suddenly hot around his cock.

Slowly Ares kissed his way down to Cupid's chest, seeking out nipples nestled in the light dusting of hair. His tongue flicked on the sensitive flesh, eliciting a groan of pleasure accompanied by Cupid's fingernails scraping lightly up his back. Without warning he nipped at one of the hard nubs and Cupid let out a cry, his cock throbbing against Ares, his nails leaving red crescents in the tender flesh of Ares' sides.

The sound of air hissing through Cupid's teeth caught Ares' attention and he could feel Cupid's chest heave against him as the winged god drew gasping breaths. Ares was beginning to understand what the God of War got out of their rough sex play as his partner's reactions spoke directly to his groin, filling his gut with fire. He began to kiss and lick his way down Cupid's stomach, feeling fingers tangle in his hair and push his head resolutely downward.

Without tilting his head, Ares looked up at Cupid. A throaty chuckle escaped his lips and he murmured, "Impatient?"

Cupid groaned at the question and arched under him, cock scraping along the stubble on Ares' jaw. The engorged organ was so close to his mouth, so tempting...

Without warning, Cupid vanished from beneath him "Wha..." Ares said, starting to roll over. When he caught sight of Cupid kneeling behind him, between his thighs, and holding a vial of oil in his hand, Ares relaxed back onto his stomach and chuckled again. " _Very_ impatient."

The oil trickled down the cleft of his ass, cool against his heated skin. Ares shivered at the sensation and spread his thighs further as Cupid's hands cupped his ass, the winged god smearing the oil down to coat him thoroughly. A moment later he felt the steady pressure of Cupid's cock pressing against him, demanding entry into his body. Ares braced himself with his forearms above his head and pushed back, gasping at the sudden sharp pain—quickly replaced by fiery pleasure—as Cupid began to thrust into him.

The feeling of being filled, being possessed, was almost overwhelming. Cupid's fingertips caressed Ares' back and sides, their touch leaving trails of fire in their wake. He wanted to be enveloped in Cupid's body, wanted it within and surrounding him. He could feel Cupid's hands trembling, betraying the extent of the winged god's need. The hands slid along Ares' arms and Cupid laced their fingers together.

As Cupid thrust into him, Ares' cock slid against the firm silkiness of the pillows with enough friction to be maddening, but not quite enough to be satisfying. Hands above his head, he couldn't reach to touch himself, to stroke himself to release and soothe the growing ache in his balls. And he didn't want to let go of Cupid's hands, to break their connection.

Teeth sank into his shoulder and he heard the cry that was ripped from his throat—a sound somewhere between agony and ecstasy. Behind him, Cupid moaned and thrust one final time, pulling against their clasped hands for leverage. As the exquisite pain in his shoulder subsided and the feeling of Cupid's orgasm tingled through his nerves, Ares bit his lip to keep from crying out Cupid's name. Somehow it seemed like moaning the name of one lover while entangled with another—almost adulterous—though the God of War had no claim on Ares and should expect no fidelity from him.

He felt Cupid's body gently ease off of his and he turned his head to find the winged god lying on his side facing him. Long, delicate fingers stroked Ares' back, tracing the muscles in his shoulders and arms. He seemed surprised to feel the indentation left by his teeth. Leaning forward, he whispered, "Roll over."

Ares frowned, but complied with the request, settling himself back into the cushions, arms at his sides. Part of him was still expecting the savagery of his lover, _his_ Cupid, even though it had so far failed to materialize.

Instead, those skilled fingers continued their exploration of his body, lightly brushing against his erect nipples and sending electricity coursing through his body. His eyes closed, and he relaxed into the sea of sensations. The light touch followed the line of hair from his chest down to the vee-shaped patch of dark curls where his cock rested, achingly hard and gently quivering in time with his heartbeat.

Ares' eyes opened at the touch of Cupid's tongue, the sensation exquisite, if unfamiliar. The God of War never felt the need to satisfy his lover; on the contrary, Ares was used to being Cupid's instrument of pleasure. Fascinated, Ares watched as Cupid lifted his cock and bent his head to lick the glistening drop of precum from its slit. Without warning, Cupid's mouth enveloped him, sliding over his glans, down his shaft and back again repeatedly.

When he thought he couldn't possibly stand another second of the delicious torture, Cupid's mouth lifted from him. Without a word, the winged god straddled his hips and lowered himself down onto Ares' hard cock. Ares felt his breath catch as he realized what Cupid was offering. Something that the God of War would never— _could_ never—offer him.

Ares' hands found purchase on Cupid's waist, his hips arching up to meet the other god's downward thrusts, rejoicing in the feeling of Cupid enveloping him. He heard soft whimpering and looked up to meet Cupid's gaze, finding the other god staring at him with a sensual intensity. Unconsciously, he caught his lower lip in his teeth, surprised at the incredible beauty of the god riding his cock.

Heart pounding, Ares looked away again, focusing instead on Cupid's bronzed chest, shimmering with sweat. After a moment he found his gaze drawn back to Cupid's face and he watched as Cupid's wings trembled and stretched to their full span, the other god wantonly throwing back his head and giving voice to moans of pleasure. At the sound, the heat that had been slowly coiling inside Ares swelled and erupted from his throbbing cock. As the waves of molten ecstasy rolled over him, his eyes closed and he heard himself crying out, his voice rough with passion.

A soft weight settled on his chest and he opened his eyes to find Cupid lying forward onto him, the blond head pillowed on his shoulder, their bodies still joined. He smiled and wrapped his arms around the other God of Love.

A single feather floated slowly down to land next to Ares' face.


End file.
